Kiss Him, My Lady
by Aria34
Summary: "Éomer," Lothíriel stroked his beard with the tips of her fingers, "I am not yet accustomed to having a large bear of a man stare at me when I am unclothed," She traced her thumb over his lips. "But I am sure I will get used to it quite soon." Éomer pulled her hand down and held it against his chest, "As I said earlier, my Queen, I would do anything for you."
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Lord of the Rings!**

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The stables were nearly empty of both man and beast when she entered. The dark wood was so brightly lit by the setting sun that from afar, she had almost thought the structure was aflame. She lightly dragged her hand over the roughly hewn slabs as she walked in.

When she first came to Edoras from the White City, she was startled by the lack of pomp and ceremony at Meduseld. Back home in Dol Amroth and in Gondor, where she had spent much of her childhood, the Lords and Ladies of the Court basked in the complex rituals and mannerisms expected among their class. Lothíriel had grown up a beloved daughter among sons, so she could afford to ignore some of the customs. But even she, as a princess, had to abide by most of the traditions. She remembered hearing gossip about the Horse-Lords of Rohan, especially during her time in Gondor. Everyone had said it was a barbaric kingdom full of large men with beards and wild golden hair. She had heard that the men prized their horses above gold or riches.

After the war, however, many Gondorian folk began to sing praises about the Horse-lords. They had arrived in the thick of battle and turned the tide when all hope seemed lost. Then almost immediately after, they mustered their strength and rode to Mordor with King Elessar and the riders from Dol Amroth. The same Noblewomen who used to whisper behind their fans about the barbaric Rohirrim began to flirt shamelessly- just to be able to gossip to their friends that they had won the love of a Horse-lord. Not than any of the ladies in Gondor would ever actually marry one of them.

Lothíriel, on the other hand, was not a lady of Gondor. She was a princess of Dol Amroth. When her father and Kind Elessar proposed a match between her and the young King Éomer, she had agreed. She had only seen him a handful of times, and they had only had polite, stilted conversations during those meetings; however she trusted the word of her father. And more than that, she trusted her brothers to the ends of the earth. They had all fought with King Éomer, and not of them had anything but the highest regard for him. Beyond that, Lothíriel had grown quite close to the King's sister, who was now married to Faramir, thus making Éowyn and Lothíriel cousins.

There was truly no reason for Lothíriel to reject the match, so she said yes and now found herself sneaking around Edoras the night before her wedding to the imposing, stoic, and incredibly attractive King of the Horse-Lords.

Given that her mother died when Lothíriel was just a little girl, and her aunt was in Dol Amroth, Lothíriel had to be quite inventive in learning about what would happen on her wedding night. She had seen beasts coupling in the stables and on the jewel green farmlands of her home country; she had heard whispers broken up by fits of giggles when she was among a huddle of maidens in the shadows of a ballroom; but neither of those seemed like a reliable source of information.

When the match was decided in Gondor, she had considered asking Éowyn, but could not bring herself to ask her soon-to-be husband's sister what to expect when the doors shut and the guests left the bride and groom alone. Instead, Lothíriel had taken it upon herself to corner her poor new lady's maid, Willa. She was a young woman from the Westfold who had fled to Edoras when the Orcs raided her village. As a widow with a son Lothíriel reasoned that Willa would be able to tell her what to expect on her wedding night.

Amidst protests and blushes, Willa had eventually managed to string together a few sentences.

"If the King is gentle with you, and I'm sure he will be, My Lady, it will not hurt you. You may even find it pleasant."

Lothíriel had asked if Willa had found it pleasant, but the poor woman turned so pink and stumbled over her words so much that Lothíriel took pity and asked her a different question.

"How will I know if he will be gentle?"

"Oh, My Lady, you shouldn't be asking me these kinds of questions. It's not right- I'm your maid, I can't be telling you these things."

Lothíriel had huffed in annoyance and glared at her maid, "I suppose I can try asking my brothers. Or perhaps Father might take it upon himself to enlighten me."

Willa had paled at the suggestion and picked up her mending basket. As she hurried away, she turned to whisper "I suppose you might kiss him, My Lady."

That whispered sentence had been ruminating around Lothíriel's head for hours; she couldn't stop thinking about kissing King Éomer. It was no exaggeration to say he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. In her opinion, and that of many ladies in Gondor, his features rivaled those of Boromir and King Elessar, who, it was rumored, had drops of elven blood running through his veins. The difference to Lothíriel, however, was that Boromir had been killed in his prime and she had been too young to appreciate his masculine beauty when she had last seen him; and King Elessar's heart belonged to the loveliest being in Middle Earth, the fair Queen Arwen; but Éomer, Éomer would be hers before sunset tomorrow.

As she passed one of the closed stalls, a dark brown equine head peaked over the gate at her. Thoughts of kissing her intended were replaced by curiosity at the unexpected presence of the horse. She knew there was a chance that the beast could become violent and harm her, but mustered her courage to swing the heavy metal latch free of its hook and slipped into the stall. The beast inside seemed gentle and sweet as it allowed Lothíriel to kiss its nose and stroke its heavily muscled neck. She was awed by the beauty of some of the horses in Rohan; she could sometimes understand why the Rohirric prized those fine limbed creatures above all else.

She picked up a heavy brush and began stroking the glossy coat until she could see her own reflection. She lost track of time, the hypnotic movements of the brush and quiet whisper of the wind lulled both the lovely beast and Lothíriel into a trance.

"She likes you," A voice behind her spoke, low and soothing. The owner of the voice took care not to spook the animal or the lady, clearly understanding the apprehensive nature of horses.

Lothíriel turned to face the man who spoke, the man she had been thinking of for the past several hours. She curtsied to him, "My King."

"Princess," He inclined his head and took a step closer to her, his arm swinging up to stroke the horse, "This is Asta. She is a descendent of the Mearas. They do not easily trust men, but it seems she may trust you."

"It is because I am not a man," Lothíriel said without thinking, and immediately regretted how impudent her remark must have sounded to the King.

Éomer seemed not to take offense, and rather called to the young stableboy who had accompanied him, "Háma, take Asta to the fields, she needs the open air."

"Yes, My Lord." Hama took the reins Éomer held out and gently tugged to get the horse's attention. Éomer nudged Asta's rump to make her follow after the young boy.

As the gate swung shut behind Asta, Lothíriel realized she and Éomer were alone for the first time since they had met.

"I did not expect to see you here, Princess," He said with a slight frown.

"Lothíriel. My name-" She stumbled over her words and took a breath to compose herself. "Please, call me Lothíriel."

His brow furrowed as he nodded and crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue.

"I wanted to get to know the horses." She nearly cringed at the way the words were tumbling out of her mouth. _Get to know the horses?_ She thought to herself, _I don't think I could possibly sound more dense even if I tried!_

He raised an eyebrow at her statement,

"Not the horses, you see. I just wanted to- I thought I should begin to learn more about the horses." She managed to choke out. _Thank Erú! At least I've said one decent sentence!_ She silently chastised herself for seeming a fool in front of the one man she wanted to impress. He, on the other hand had spoken the few words he needed to in order not to appear rude; and she was beginning to realize he did not seem to want her company so she began her exit.

"I should go, I'm so sorry for being in your way, My lord." She curtsied again and began backing out of the stall without realizing the gate was locked once again.

As she spun around to wrestle with the lock on the gate, he suddenly spoke in his low voice.. "Éomer. You can call me Éomer."

She slowly turned to face him as the gate swung open a few inches and realized he had not moved at all. His arms were still crossed across his magnificent chest and his gaze did not flicker from her face. She could not tell if he was inviting her company or being polite out of kingly or husbandly duties.

She took a chance, stepped toward him and nodded, "Éomer," She tested the name on her lips. It seemed to come naturally enough, she thought.

They stood face to face for a few seconds, both unsure of how to break the silence. Lothíriel was panicking, trying to think of something interesting to say when he spoke up again.

"At this time of year, we release the horses in this stable into the fields for most of the day. Many of the mares will be foaling come spring so it is healthy for them to be in the open.

"Is there more than one stable?" She asked, more out of good manners than true interest. She knew she should be listening to what he said, it could be valuable information when she became Queen but she was distracted by his voice and lips.

He began to speak again and tell her about the stables housing the war horses and work horses. She, on the other hand was thinking about what Willa had said **,** _I suppose you might kiss him, My Lady._

Not at all bad advice if Lothíriel was being honest with herself.

Y _ou might kiss him, My Lady._

And this was the first, most likely last time they would be alone until after the wedding tomorrow- by then it would be too late to find out.

 _Kiss him, My Lady!_

Éomer was still speaking, "The war horses are to aggressive to be kept wit-"

Before she could think about it any further, she jolted forward and kissed him. Her lips nearly missed his but she couldn't be bothered with that. She was horrified at what she had done, what she was _still_ doing.

He seemed horrified by it as well, his arms were still crossed and he stood stiffly, as if he was waiting for her to step away and remove her lips from his person.

She heaved her entire body back and looked at him with wide, shocked eyes, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as she gasped. She blurted out, "I'm so sorry, my lord!" and spun around, sending up a silent prayer when she saw the gate was open just a sliver.

She began coming up with excuses for when she had to see him again tomorrow. Or maybe she could pretend it didn't happen and he would be kind enough to do the same.

Before she could make her cowardly escape, Éomer seemed to recover from his surprise and moved quickly. As she began to shove the heavy gate open, Éomer's hand came down on top of the gate with a heavy thump, his other palm connected with the wood next to her head with a sharp crack. He held the gate in place so she gave up pushing, dropped her arms and stood completely still. She was boxed in by the wood before her, his arms on either side of her and his solid, imposing figure behind her. He was close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from his body.

He didn't speak at all, but rather stepped closer until she could feel his hard thighs pressing against her bottom and the backs of her thighs. She gasped softly at the contact but stayed silent, waiting to see what he would do next.

"May I know, Princess, what you were trying to do?" His low voice directly in her ear sent a shiver through her entire body. She couldn't tell if she wanted to be closer to him or far, far away.

"I, well I- That is, my maid," Lothíriel began, "She told me what it is that occurs between a man and a woman- or rather, I asked her and she didn't quite tell me." Lothíriel's voice trailed off into an inaudible whisper.

"Go on," Éomer demanded softly.

She began speaking even more quietly, "Well, she suggested I might understand if I- If I kissed you. And that's why I did."

Éomer did not appear to be shocked or horrified, in fact, he appeared to not have heard her at all. Lothíriel wondered if she should reach up and push on the gate again, now that he had gotten his answer, he might be inclined to release her. Maybe he was so aghast by her forwardness that he would her run away with her tail between her legs.

 _Or perhaps_ , that impulsive little voice spoke up again, the same traitorous voice that made her kiss him in the first place; _perhaps you could turn around and face him, show him that you are courageous enough to stand by your actions._

Before she could do either, he slowly pulled the gate shut and let the heavy metal latch fall into place with a resounding clang. Her stomach turned at the sound and her heart began to pound. Even the little voice seemed quelled by the echo.

He pulled both his hands off the wood in front of her and gently placed his warm palms on her forearms, sliding them down until he reached her hands. The warmth of his palms left a trail of warm tingles down her arms. He took her smaller hands in his own and carefully lifted them both to push her palms flat against the wood of the gate just in front of her chest. With his hands still covering hers, and his biceps brushing against her shoulders, he stepped closer until his chest was pressed to her back. She didn't move at all in fear that he would release her and step away. She was barely breathing, hoping he would keep touching her in some way.

He moved one of his hands used it to gently lift her dark hair to one side of her shoulder. A soft gasp left her lips as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back, pressing her even more tightly against him- his broad chest against her back. He glanced down at the smooth column of her neck where her pulse was fluttering wildly and bent his head to place a kiss on the soft skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She lips dropped open in surprise but he kept going, placing warm kisses further up her neck.

Lothíriel inhaled sharply at the contrast between Éomer's soft lips and his rough, prickly beard. Each kiss sent a burst of sparks down her spine, weakening her knees and awakening a strange, pleasant warmth between her legs.

The only part of her brain still working, the part belonging to that traitorous voice, was screaming at her to touch him so she lifted her free hand off the wood and cautiously placed it on his arm around her waist as her head fell back to his shoulder allowing him more access. She could feel his smile against the skin of her shoulder where he began placing warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses. She gasped for breath when he used his teeth to lightly score her neck. She lifted her hand from his arm to bury it in his golden hair, holding his head in place, tangling the surprisingly soft strands between her fingers. Her other hand came off the wood and grasped his thick wrist pressed against her belly.

His lips slid up to tease the delicate skin just under her ear. As she gasped for air, He suddenly moved them both, roughly spinning her to face him and wrapped both his arms around her waist, one pressed between her shoulder blades, holding her upper body to his chest; the other wrapped around her hips. Her hands fell to his shoulders as he kissed her lips gently. His tongue stroked her lower lip until she opened for him. She was lost in the feeling of his body against hers and his palms stroking up and down her back.

Éomer kissed her deeply, tasting and teasing her as he backed her up against the stable wall. She wound one hand in his hair and the other around his neck and kissed him back. One coherent thought crossed her mind, _Willa was absolutely right._

He began to pull back, his hands sliding to the sides of her waist, and licked and nipped her jaw and whatever he could reach of her breasts. His coarse beard scraped against her soft skin, sending shudders through her body while his fingers slid up to tease the sensitive skin under her breasts through her gown.

Her head fell back against the wood as she struggled to bring him closer, her nails digging into his broad shoulders. She was only vaguely aware that she had wrapped her leg around his hip until his fingers pressed into the back of her thigh, holding her in place. His free hand hooked around her other thigh and jerked her up until both her legs were wrapped around him in a tangle of skirts. She was held up entirely by his weight pressing her against the wall and her legs around his hips. The strange warmth between her legs had grown into an insistent ache and she pressed against him in an unconscious attempt to relieve it. Every time she made contact with the growing ridge in his breeches, a flurry of tingles spread through her body; beginning at her core and ending at her toes and the tips of her breasts.

While she was lost in a daze of heady kisses and pleasure, he seemed to realize they were in a public place, likely to get caught if they continued and began to pull back on his kisses. He hooked one arm around her waist and reached behind his back with the other to unhook her legs from his hips. As she slid down his body, he caught her and kissed her again, gently setting her on solid ground. This kiss felt different, he was sweet and soft, lightly stroking her neck and hair. Her eyes were still closed as he stepped back and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then she felt the cold air against her body as he pulled away completely. Her eyes shot open a few moments later and she was faced with an empty stable, the gate slightly open and Éomer nowhere in sight.

Lothíriel slumped ungracefully against the wall and pressed her hands to her cheeks, fighting the hot blush creeping up her cheeks as she thought about what they had just done.

 _Pleasant is definitely an understatement_ , Lothíriel thought as she pushed through the gate.

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 **Hello All!**

 **1.** As always, ask me questions, send me suggestions or just say hi! I'd love to hear from you :)

 **2.** I've been meaning to write this for ages, since the last time I saw Lord of the Rings- but I finally got to it! I'm thinking of making it a two-shot. At least so it picks up the next day when they get married, what do you guys think?

 **3.** I have a few Avengers stories out, you should all take a look if you're into that!

 **Please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-Mo-**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Lord of the Rings!**

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The wedding feast had been going on for hours by the time Lothíriel was ushered into the King's chamber by a dozen pretty, young maidens. Amidst giggles and whispers, they told her how lucky she was to be married to the young King then rushed off to rejoin the celebration, leaving her standing alone in the doorway, unsure of what to do next.

Moments after they floated away in a cloud of perfume and delicate laughter, Willa stepped out of a dark alcove and approached Lothíriel with a wry quirk of her lips.

"It seems your new husband has many ardent admirers, my Lady,"

Lothíriel shot Willa a look and turned to enter the bedchamber.

"I don't appreciate you going into hiding when they came to kidnap me, Willa. Isn't it your job to protect me?"

Willa let out a huff of laughter and pulled the heavy oak door shut behind them,

"Are you still determined to keep the secrets of the marriage bed to yourself?" Lothíriel asked as she swept across the room to sit down in front of a mirror. She watched Willa's reflection in the glass as she carefully arranged her voluminous skirts around her and got to work sliding pins out of her hair.

Willa carefully laid a shimmering white nightgown on the massive bed in the center of the room. The tips of Willa's ears turned pink as she tried to come up with an answer while she busied herself with straightening creases out of the gown.

"My Lady, it truly is not my place to say anything."

Willa abandoned the gown and joined Lothíriel at the mirror to remove the jewels adorning the new Queen's throat and fingers. The heavy ornaments with large glittering diamonds and twisting ropes of bright gold had been a wedding gift from Éowyn in Gondor. They were fashioned in a Rohirric style and created from stones and metals from Dol Amrothian mines, to Lothíriel's delight. Willa gently laid the heavy necklace in a silk-lined chest and began on Lothíriel's hair. Her nimble fingers slid the pins and tiny diamonds out of her Lady's long, dark waves.

"Shall I leave it out, my Lady?" Willa asked as she brushed Lothíriel's hair out of the complicated hairstyle.

"Yes, it would be best." Lothíriel said as she watched Willa, wondering how to phrase her next words. "I kissed the him yesterday."

Willa raised her eyebrows in surprise as her eyes met Lothíriel's in the mirror. Lothíriel continued, carefully contemplating her words.

"It was quite… something,"

"My Lady, I'm not certain this discussion entirely proper."

Lothíriel laughed and waved her hand, as if to brush Willa's concerns aside.

"Oh, Willa. You might as well know now, I'm not one who puts much stock in propriety."

As Willa finished with with her hair, Lothíriel stood to change out of her heavy wedding gown into the gossamer thin nightgown. She was surprised that Willa hadn't had any complaints about the scandalous gown.

The gown was nearly see-through, Lothíriel was sure it would have been completely transparent if she took a few short steps toward the crackling fire.

Willa gathered up Lothíriel's wedding gown and opened the door to the adjoining Queen's chambers. As she slipped through the door, she turned to speak to Lothíriel.

"My Lady, if I may say so, you look lovely. The King will not know what to do with himself when he sees you,"

"Well, I hope he knows what to do with me, Willa." Lothíriel replied with a wicked smile which dissolved into laughter as Willa's expression.

The door shut behind Willa, leaving Lothíriel in the chamber with only the fire for company. Willa, in her customary thoughtfulness, had draped a silky robe to match the nightgown at the foot of the bed - leaving it to Lothíriel to decide whether or not to don it.

She stood in the center of the chamber, alone and more than slightly irritated. She could still hear the revelers in the Great Hall, celebrating and feasting their King's wedding- their King who had conveniently left Lothíriel's side shortly after dinner and still had not reappeared.

 _It does not bode well that your new husband is already this inattentive_ , she thought with a flash of irritation.

Patience had never been her strong suit, and after their kiss in the stables yesterday she was even more impatient. Her mind raced as she poured herself a glass of wine from the pitcher which had been brought to the room before Lothíriel had come.

Her thoughts ran in circles, always beginning and ending with the kiss yesterday. More accurately, her thoughts went to the tingles that had ran up and down her spine every time Éomer's beard shad craped against the extremely sensitive skin of her neck. As she lost herself in the memories, the familiar tingles began to shoot up her spine, causing her to shudder and shake her head, hopelessly trying to rid herself of the thoughts.

She took another deep swallow of wine and considered the missing object of her fantasies.

 _Perhaps he went back to celebrate with his men_ , she thought, somewhat bitterly, as her gaze flitted around the chamber, taking in the heavy wood furniture and austere decoration. Her gaze fell upon the minuscule hand-carved wooden figurines lined up on the edge of the windowsill. The whimsical little toys looked out of place in the masculine chamber.

She left her goblet of wine on the table, next to the pitcher and a second goblet, and approached the battalion of animal figurines, bending slightly to see them more clearly through the warm haze of wine.

There were horses, of course; and foxes and wolves; rabbits and bears; various birds and beasts she had never before seen, likely imagined from fairy stories and legends of the past. Some were carved by the precise hand of a master craftsman, and others by the clumsy hand of a child. Her eyes landed on a roughly hewn dragon with a too long tail and droopy ears. She looked at it curiously with a small smile on her lips. As she picked it up and turned to hold it to the light, the door swung open, allowing the echoes of laughter and shouts from the great hall into the chamber. She quickly dropped her hand, trying to hide the pilfered dragon among her skirts before remembering that her skirts now consisted of what was quite possibly a transparent handkerchief.

Giving up on hiding the dragon, she watched her husband cautiously step in and glance around the chamber.

 _He doesn't look any worse for the wear than when he left the feast_ , Lothíriel thought, coming to the conclusion that he had not gone back after she was whisked away from the Great Hall.

His gaze landed on her and his eyes widened slightly as he took in her bare legs and the regrettably thin night gown. A cold breeze swept into the room- granted entry through the door Éomer held open- and wrapped around Lothíriel. It's icy fingers raked through her hair and slithered across her skin, sending a shiver through her entire body. Éomer must have noticed the motion from across the room because he let the door fall shut behind him, and suddenly the vast room felt too small. This was the first time they were alone together since the stables the day before.

"I apologize for my tardiness, My Lady, there were tasks to be done that could not wait until morning," Éomer sounded regretful.

"A king's work is never complete, My lord." Lothíriel said lightly, letting him believe his absence had not bothered her at all.

He tilted his head in acquiescence and went to the table where the pitcher of wine and goblets had been arranged. While his back was turned, Lothíriel's eyes darted toward the robe at the edge of the bed, mentally berating herself for not wearing it earlier. She briefly considered putting it on it while Éomer was busy with the wine, but quickly abandoned that idea when he put the pitcher down and turned toward her, glasses in hand.

Her heart beat louder and faster with every step Éomer took toward her until it was so loud Lothíriel was certain he could hear it thumping. She was no longer as nervous in his presence as she had been yesterday, but she was still not entirely relaxed.

He stood at a respectable distance but traitorous part of her head kept saying that the respectable distance was too far and she should step closer to him. She ignored that voice, instead, choosing to smile as he held out her goblet, nearly filled to the brim with ruby colored wine.

As she reached for it, Éomer noticed the dragon figurine clenched between the fingers of her other hand.

Her eyes darted down to the forgotten figurine and she began to worry, hoping he would not be too upset by her curiosity. She chastised herself briefly, remember you still did not know enough about him to behave without thinking.

"I apologize for-"

"I see you found my-"

They both began speaking at the same time. Éomer cut himself off with a smirk and motioned for her to finish her thought first.

"I apologize for moving the figurines, My Lord. I was curious about them." Lothíriel spoke as she straightened her fingers and revealed the dragon on her palm.

Éomer's hand came up slowly as he spoke.

"Please, don't be sorry," his said as he stroked one finger over the ridges on the back of the dragon. "I hope you enjoyed them."

"They're lovely," Lothíriel said, transfixed by his fingers and vaguely aware that her own voice had dropped to a whisper. "Who made them?"

Éomer's eyes met hers with a smile, "I did, mostly. Theodored made some of them, and Theoden King as well,"

She smiled back at him and turned to the windowsill, gently placed the dragon back in its place and tilted her head as she took a second look at the little wooden menagerie.

Éomer stepped toward her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body against her skin. He set his wine on the windowsill with a gentle clink of stone against metal and looked at the collection of animals.

"Several days after my father was killed, Theoden King brought me to the throne room. My mother had taken to her chambers in desolation, she passed only weeks later in her grief. He sat beside me on the steps, rather than sitting upon his throne, and let me watch as he carved away at an uneven block of wood. He did not ask me to speak, nor did he force his conversation on me. Rather, we both sat in silence as the block of wood became a thing of beauty."

Éomer paused and reached around Lothíriel to gently tap the back of a nimble horse standing in a perpetual prance between a hulking bear and a block-like bird. He let his hand rest on the windowsill as he continued.

"One day when we sat down, he handed his knife and a new piece of wood to me and watched as I whittled away at the block."

Éomer's voice grew quieter. "Whenever I became unsure of what to do next, he would take it from me and expertly carve some wood away until it looked right again. Then he would hand it back and watch me continue."

Lothíriel gently placed her hand over his as she asked, "And what did you make?"

"The bird," Éomer said, with a smile in his voice.

Lothíriel looked at the crudely carved bird next to the horse and ran her fingers down its tail. Suddenly finding courage in the figurine, she placed her wine next to his and turned to face him. They stood closer than she had initially realized, one tiny step forward would have put her firmly in his arms, but she hesitated- unwilling to throw herself at him… again.

He gaze ran over her face and he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He spoke before she had a chance to, "Lothíriel," he breathed, as her eyes fluttered shut, "You're so lovely."

He let the same fingers drag over her shoulder and down her arm until he was holding her hand in his own. He pulled her hand to his lips, laid a kiss on the back of her fingers and stepped back, away from the window, still holding her hand.

She gladly followed and went into his arms now, eyes opening to admire the man before her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him, pulling back slightly to see his reaction, or rather, to make sure he wasn't frozen in surprise like he had been when she had kissed him in the stables.

His arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand gently cupped her face as he pulled her face back to his and kissed her, deeper this time.

Lothíriel's lips opened in a sigh against his mouth. Without even realizing, she tugged him closer and raked her fingers through his dark blonde hair as Éomer walked her backward toward the bed.

When she felt the wood against her calves and the warmth of the quilts and furs against her thighs, Éomer pulled away from the kiss and picked her up by the waist to lift her onto the bed, which was much higher than she had initially assumed.

She caught his eye and he gave her a wicked smile as he leaned closer and kissed down her jaw and neck. Her head fell back and her fingers fisted in his hair as his beard scraped down the length of delicate skin. Soft gasps fell from her lips every time Éomer's teeth grazed her neck. She had a hard time catching her breath when he sucked and nibbled on the most sensitive parts of her neck.

She heard herself whisper his name among gasps and moans, she didn't know what she was begging for but knew she wouldn't be able to stand it if he stopped. Éomer released her waist and reached down to spread her thighs apart; his teeth against her shoulder made her neck feel weak, until she dropped her forehead against his chest. He stepped between her thighs and slid his fingers down her smooth skin to catch the edge of the silky nightgown. Her hands fisted in the material at the neck of his shirt as he pulled the gown up until it was bunched around her hips.

Lothíriel launched forward and kissed him, unable to hold herself back any longer as he placed his large hands on her bare thighs. Her tongue twisted against his, aggressive and relentless. She wanted everything from him.

His hand snuck between her thighs toward her center while the other reached around and roughly squeezed a handful of her bottom, making her arch into him.

Two of his fingers slid between her wet folds as he groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder, sucking and nipping the skin there.

"I wanted to do this yesterday," his voice was muffled by her skin, "In the stables,"

Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck and tangled in his hair, holding his head in place as his fingers teased between her legs, sending liquid fire through her body.

She gently bit his neck in curious delight, wondering how he would react.

The hand grasping her arse pulled her closer to him as a rumble vibrated through his chest.

"You should have," she whispered against his ear as she sucked at his earlobe, delighted by his response.

He pulled his fingers away from her and shook his hair out of his face with a devious smile. He rested his hands on either side of her hips, bracing himself on the edge of the bed.

"Ah, my Queen, I must apologize for the missed opportunity yesterday," he teased as he kissed her lightly, pulling away when she tried to deepen the kiss. "I shall do my best to please you now."

* * *

 **Hello All!**

 **1.** As always, ask me questions, send me suggestions or just say hi! I'd love to hear from you :)

 **2.** Here's chapter 2! I'm thinking of making this PWP for a few more chapters, hopefully that doesn't offend anybody.

 **3.** I have a few Avengers stories out, you should all take a look if you're into that!

 **Please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-Mo-**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own Lord of the Rings!**

* * *

 _"I wanted to do this yesterday," his voice was muffled by her skin, "In the stables,"_

 _Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck and tangled in his hair, holding his head in place as his fingers teased between her legs, sending liquid fire through her body._

 _She gently bit his neck in curious delight, wondering how he would react._

 _The hand grasping her arse pulled her closer to him as a rumble vibrated through his chest._

 _"You should have," she whispered against his ear as she sucked at his earlobe, delighted by his response._

 _He pulled his fingers away from her and shook his hair out of his face with a devious smile. He rested his hands on either side of her hips, bracing himself on the edge of the bed._

 _"Ah, my Queen, I must apologize for the missed opportunity yesterday," he teased as he kissed her lightly, pulling away when she tried to deepen the kiss. "I shall do my best to please you now,"_

* * *

Éomer stepped back slightly and began working on the belt at his waist, slowly pulling it loose, then took his time to amble across the room and hang it on the back of a chair there. As he returned to her, Lothíriel's hands reached out to grab the ties of his vest and pull him close, but he resisted and and remained standing just out of her reach. He began on his vest, slower this time to tease her even more. He caught her eye and winked, letting her know how amused he was by her impatience. At this, her eyes narrowed and she leaned further toward him to pull him forward by his hands. When he was back between her thighs, she pushed his hands away, taking over the job of undressing him.

She worked at the knots of his rich leather vest, sighing in frustration as her hair fell in her eyes. The more she tugged, the tighter the knots seemed to become, until the vest was even more secure on his person. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for his blade- before she could jump off the bed and locate and of his weapons on the other side of the chamber, Éomer let out a soft laugh at her frustration and took over. He eased the knots apart with minimal effort, adding to Lothíriel's irritation. As soon as the last knot was untied, Lothíriel pushed the flaps apart and slid the vest over his broad shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, forgotten. She tugged on his tunic next, pushing it up and over his head until it also lay abandoned on the floor.

Lothíriel ran her hands up his naked chest, savoring the feel of muscles and crisp, springy hair. She watched his expression with a smile as she ran her fingernails down, lightly scratching him in wicked delight.

His lips dropped open momentarily at the sensation, then he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss. This one was rough and biting. He quickly abandoned her lips and bent to kiss her breasts. Every swipe of his tongue caused the nightgown to go transparent and stick to her flushed skin. He finally reached the aroused tips of her breasts. He drank in the sight of the stiff peaks pressing against the thin gown, the pink of her skin clearly visible. He leaned back in and took one nipple between his lips. Lothíriel moaned and thrust her breasts out, one hand grasping the back of his head to hold him in place while the other curled into his bicep.

Éomer's free hand worked at the neck of her gown, tugging until there was a ripping sound that made them freeze.

"Éomer," she said, breathlessly laughing, "if you tear this gown, I'll have make excuses to my maid in the morning."

He sucked deeper and scored her nipple with his teeth as he tugged harder, ripping the gown open to her waist.

"Tell her it was in the way," Éomer growled, pushing her further back onto the bed and getting to his knees between her thighs until he was hovering over her body. He gasped the torn edges of the nightgown in each hand and pulled, tearing the entire gown in half, exposing her naked body to him.

He kissed up her neck, occasionally biting, until he reached her lips again. Her thighs spread under the weight of his body, making space for his hips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers as his fingers found her center again, impatiently pushing her thigh further to make more room for his hand. He held himself over her body, bracing his weight on his forearm next to her waist. Her arms looped around his neck, one twisted in his hair, the other grasping his shoulder.

His eyes met hers as his fingers stroked through the dampness.

"You're so ready for me," his voice had almost turned into a growl as he bent his head to take her nipple between his lips.

"Éomer, please," She gasped, arching into him and twisting her hips, hoping he would grant her plea for more.

He slowly thrust one thick finger into her, savoring the breathy moan that fell from her lips and the scrape of her fingernails against his neck. He pulled the finger out, letting it drag against her insides and pushed it back in, deeper this time. As he pumped his finger in and out, he heard her gasping and begging for more- her warm breath against his ear and her sharp nails digging into his skin. He pushed a second finger in and used his thumb on her sensitive bundle of nerves to help her adjust to him. She unconsciously spread her legs wider and arched up, pulling his shoulders closer and burying her face in his neck. Every thrust of his fingers sent a new wave of pleasure through her body, her broken gasps were muffled against his warm skin.

He lifted his free hand and fisted a handful of her dark hair, pulling her head back to see the pleasure play across her lovely features. Her eyes were tightly closed and her teeth dug into her damp, swollen lower lip so hard he worried she might break the skin. Her nails bit into his shoulder as his fingers pumped faster and deeper, his thumb relentlessly stroking side to side, increasing the pressure with every thrust of his fingers He curled and twisted his fingers expertly, stimulating a place deep inside that made her jolt and throw her head back.

As she came, her teeth released her lip and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her mind was far away, lost in pleasure, as she felt him pull his fingers away from her hair and grasp her jaw, bringing her lips to his in a deep kiss. As her body relaxed, she reached down to wrap her fingers around his wrist and hold his hand still to allow her time to recover. He pulled his fingers out of her and lightly stroked her clit, taking pleasure in the shivers that ran though her body each time his fingers made contact.

As she was about to reach up to take his face in her hands, he pushed off her without warning. He left the bed entirely, ignoring the puzzled, and somewhat hurt expression on her face, and began yanking as the laces of his boots, balancing on one foot, then the other. He tossed each boot behind him carelessly, vaguely hoping they wouldn't land in the fire, then got to work on the ties of his breeches. He looked up at Lothíriel, his hot gaze sending a frisson of excitement through her body. She had shrugged the torn nightgown off her shoulders, tossing it to the side, and was now lounging back on her elbows, watching him undress.

He yanked his breeches down and kicked them off as he climbed back onto the bed, prowling toward her. His eyes were predatory as he wrapped a hand around her knee and yanked her down the bed until she was under him.

"Oh!" She gasped in laughter as she slid across the quilts

He rested his fist on the mattress next to her head and hiked her leg up until it was hooked around his hip with the other hand.

She hooked her other thigh around his hip until as he reached down to stroke her cunt with his arousal. She ground against him clumsily, her unpracticed movement nowhere near as graceful as the slow rock of his hips.

When his cock was coated in her juices, he pushed into her slowly, giving her time to pull away or stop him.

Lothíriel's palms braced against his hard chest at the slow intrusion. The girth of his cock stretched her far beyond what his fingers had done. The sting of pain increases as he pushed in deeper.

"Stop me if I'm hurting you," he said, as he slowly pulled out an inch, then resumed pushing. The hand around the base of his cock slid up and teased her clit, wringing a gasp out of her lips.

As he pushed all the way in and held steady, she pulled him closer by the back of his neck and kissed him hard.

"Stay here for a moment," She whispered as she wriggled under him, trying to find a more comfortable position. Éomer's forehead dropped to her shoulder as he searched for enough control to stay still.

The burn between her things had lessened to a distant ache with the continued stimulation of her clit, and she hooked her arm over his shoulder.

Lothíriel rocked against him, testing the movement, and when she felt the foreign burst of pleasure, she gasped. She pushed against him again, wanting more and whispered his name.

Éomer's lips drifted to her breast as he pulled back and surged forward again, filling them both with a shower of warm sparks.

"Éomer, please - " she moaned. "I need yo-"

His kiss cut her off and at his next thrust, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He braced both forearms by her shoulders and let his chest brush against the tips of her breasts. Her knees tightened around his hips and her ankles crossed at the small of his back, holding on to him with all her might. He cupped her breast and tweaked her nipple with his thumb as he began fucking her harder. The nails digging into his shoulders spurred him on, his free hand banded across her back and held on to the opposite shoulder, pulling her onto his cock.

Every snap of his hips forced a gasp out of her lips, the occasional shout for God and the far more frequent moans of his name almost made him lose control.

"Tell me what you need," his demand cut through her pleas and she looked up at him, biting her lip, unsure of what to say. Éomer slowed his thrusts, intent on making sure Lothíriel knew he would do anything to please her.

"I would give you anything you ask for," he said, lifting his hand to brush the hair away from her damp, flushed cheeks. He brushed his lips over hers and repeated his request, "Tell me what you need."

Lothíriel held onto his neck, unwilling to make eye contact with him, and mumbled into his lips, "Your hand… what you were doing earlier."

She pulled him closer and buried her face in his chest, embarrassed at her wanton request.

Éomer, understanding but hating that she was unsure to ask for what she wanted, began moving inside her again, this time using his hand the way she had asked. As his thumb stroked her clit, over and over, in sync with his thrusts, she dug her nails into his back and moaned. Her back arched off the bed until she was pressed against his entire chest.

"Éomer, I'm almost there," She choked out, holding him in a vice-like grip. "Keep going! Right- right there!"

She came with a strangled cry and her head fell back as he leaned down to suck on her neck, unconsciously biting down when her cunt became even tighter around his cock.

The sensation was too much for Éomer, who thrust into her impossibly tight center once more until he was deep inside her, and came hard with a loud groan against her neck.

They both slumped against the quilts, breathing hard and heavy, still wrapped around one another. Éomer was slow to move, he pushed himself to his elbows, holding his weight up so he wouldn't crush her and brushed her hair back.

"I'll be right back," He whispered, as he pulled to of her and got off the bed.

He returned a few moments later with a dampened washcloth and held it between her thighs. She sudden cold sensation jerked Lothíriel out of her daze and she looked up at him with bright eyes.

"Are you in pain?" Éomer asked hesitantly.

Lothíriel shook her head, "No, I'm- It was- I am alright." She said as he pulled the washcloth away and dropped it beside his long forgotten breeches.

Lothíriel shuffled back in the bed and yanked the crumpled quilts up, struck by a sudden need to cover up her nakedness. Éomer, taking it as a sign that she was not comfortable in his presence rested one knee on the bed and pulled the quilts up around her. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and stepped back, reaching for his robe which was slung over the headboard.

He dragged it on and loosely tied it, trying in vain not to be hurt at Lothíriel's sudden desire to be alone.

"Goodnight, my Queen," He tilted his head at her and turned his back before she could see the longing on his face.

Lothíriel, on the other hand, had not moved an inch. Confused and hurt by his sudden retreat, she wildly cast around for some excuse to demand his presence in the bed.

"I am cold." She said bluntly. Her voice, louder than necessary, seemed to echo around the room and made Éomer freeze in his tracks.

He turned slightly to let her know he had acknowledged her complaint and said, "I shall tend the fire before I leave, my Lady."

Moments later, he had coaxed the dying embers into a roaring fire, which Lothíriel was sure would leave her sweltering in a few hours, and stood to leave again.

As he reached the door, her voice shot through the silence again, with another inane demand.

"Will you bring me my wine?"

He turned, irritated by her demands which were preventing him from making a somewhat dignified exit. As he crossed the room to bring her the goblet of wine, Lothíriel contemplated whether or not spilling the wine all over the quilt would be too extreme. On one hand, Éomer was far too kind to allow her to sleep in a wine soaked bed- even though the bed was large enough that a spill in the center would still leave enough room for her to comfortably sleep on the left or right side of the mess. On the other hand, he would certainly be irritated that she spilled wine all over _his_ bed and be even more hasty to leave her presence. Not to mention, the maids would definitely have some choice words for her if they had to clean up the mess.

Éomer cleared his throat impatiently, piercing through her thoughts.

"Your wine, my Lady," he held out the goblet with an dark glower indicating that he had been standing there for longer than necessary, all the while she had been staring at him with a blank expression.

"Oh!" She reached out with both hands, abandoning the scheme to spill the wine, and decided to take a more direct approach- as it had seemed to work in the stable yesterday.

"I don't need the wine," She started, only slightly cowered by his raised eyebrow. Even dressed in a disheveled robe, Éomer looked every inch the king.

"I need you," she continued, softly, as she searched his expression, "to stay here." His expression did not change at all. "With me," she finished lamely, wishing she had spilled the wine rather than spilling her desire to be near her husband.

Éomer let out a breath and his lips fell into the more familiar half-smile. "I was getting irritated by your demands, for they were keeping me here when all I wanted to do was leave," He said, taking the goblet of wine from her and setting it on the stand by the bed. "But now I am glad you changed your mind," He let the robe slide from his shoulders and slung it over the headboard again.

Lothíriel pulled the quilts back to accommodate him, "What do you mean I changed my mind? I _never_ wanted you to leave!" She protested as he settled in and took her in his arms.

"No?" He asked, "I was so certain you wanted to be alone by the way you hid yourself from me afte-"

Lothíriel cut him off by rolling halfway on top of him, with an exasperated look on her face. She propped herself up on his chest and shook her hair over her shoulder.

"Éomer," Lothíriel stroked his beard with the tips of her fingers, "I am not yet accustomed to having a large, bear of a man stare at me when I am unclothed," She traced his lips with her thumb. "I am sure I will get used to it quite soon, but give me some time."

Éomer pulled her hand down and held it against his chest as he kissed her sweetly, "As I said earlier, my Queen, I would give you anything, you need only ask."

"Well then, in order to avoid this situation in the future, I always want you in this bed with me." she decided with a smile, "even when you are angry with me or when I do not want to see your face. I still want you here with me."

"Is that so?" Elmer asked, stifling a yawn, "Even when you do not want to see my face?"

"Even then." She replied. "I shall just turn around and face the other way," she teased as she drew closer to him, sliding an arm around his waist and letting her eyes fall shut.

* * *

 **Hello All!**

 **1.** As always, ask me questions, send me suggestions or just say hi! I'd love to hear from you :)

 **2.** Here's chapter 3! I'm thinking of making this PWP for a few more chapters, hopefully that doesn't offend anybody.

 **3.** I have a few Avengers stories out, you should all take a look if you're into that!

 **Please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-Mo-**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Lord of the Rings!**

* * *

As rays of cold morning sunlight began peeking through the heavy drapes, gently brightening the room from pitch black to inky darkness, Lothíriel woke to a foreign ache between her thighs. It came and went, leaving her oddly breathless one moment and completely Lothíriel the next.

She flexed her legs experimentally. The dull pain seemed to be isolated to the one area. The area that had brought her so much pleasure last night. It seemed awfully unfair in the cold light of day that something so lovely could result in such an irritating ache.

She snuggled back between the blankets, noticing for the first time, her position in regard to her husband. She was absolutely wrapped around him. When they'd fallen asleep the night before, he had been behind her, arm tight around her waist, legs tangled with hers. Sometime during the night, however, they had shifted. He was now sprawled out on his back, his glorious muscular limbs taking up as much space as possible, and she was more than half on top of him, cheek pressed to his broad chest, legs straddling one tree-trunk like thigh and one arm tightly wrapped around his waist.

She thought she quite strongly resembled a limpet plastered against him that way. In her childhood, she and her bothers had used dull blades to pry the little shells from large boulders by the sea. Éomer might have benefited such a blade.

She felt a flush rise in her cheeks as she awkwardly tried to extricate herself from the intimate position. His hot skin felt glorious, but she parted from him all the same. As she pulled her arm away from his waist and his hand curled around her waist and dragged her in again, even closer this time.

She muffled a surprised squeak against his chest and relaxed her stiff body, hoping he was still asleep. He didn't move so much as a fingernail while she held her breath and waited for him to wake to their alarming situation. She chanced a glance at his face. He looked to be in a deep slumber. But now there was another problem, despite the ace between her legs, she felt the stirrings of arousal in her belly- brought on by his hard, naked flesh against hers. And with the way his thigh was wedged against her center- just where she needed it. The slow trickle of her wetness crept closer and closer to his skin. A few more seconds and he would certainly wake to her dripping onto his thigh. She had to move. Now.

She lifted her hips away, desperately shifting to the left, hoping this new position would prove less embarrassing for her. It wasn't. In fact, it was much worse. She was now pressed against his growing arousal. And it was most definitely growing.

She glanced up. He was breathing deeply, eyes closed.

Still asleep.

She silently cursed him. How could he possibly still be asleep when she was so panicked!

Her mind raced- how was he aroused? Had she done something inadvertently? Was he growing aroused by her proximity the same way she had became wet when he pulled her close? Not that she was complaining, of course. But she found herself curious that she could elicit such a response from a man like him. The more devious voice in her mind urged her to keep going. _Keep touching_. She shifted her weight and pressed her hip closer, biting her lip as he hardened in response.

Was he dreaming about the previous night? Was he seeing their bodies work against one another and hearing the desperate moans?

Her eyes skimmed down his large form. To her dismay, the quilts were tucked tightly around them, covering him from mid-chest down. But… they weren't so tight that she couldn't move them. She'd barely gotten a glimpse of him the night before, the dim firelight had hidden him. And by the time he had come close enough to see, she'd been too distracted by his lips and hands to care. He, on the other hand, had been able to sit back and enjoy her nakedness. It was distinctly unfair.

It wouldn't be the worst thing to work the coverings further down. Just a little. Enough to slake her sudden curiosity. Her eyes shot up to his face. It was unlikely that a bit of exploration could wake him now. It was the perfect opportunity to look at him, maybe touch him as he had touched her.

She bit her lip, palm inching across his chest, over the ridges of muscle on his abdomen. She caught the edge of the quilt and worked it down, tugging to free the edge from beneath his arm. Every inch uncovered left her panting with greed. She had to see more.

Eru! Here was a beautiful man. Not pretty, like the youths with whom she'd shared meaningless flirtations in Dol Amroth. Not gallant, like the tall, slender, dark-haired men of Gondor. No. This man was virile and bold. A warrior, through and through. Proven by the fading scars on his skin and the callouses on his palms.

This man was a foreign beast to her. Had her mind not been fogged by lust, she might have been frightened. She might have looked upon him as she'd looked upon the violent waves crashing against the shores of her home. If she'd been thinking clearly, she might have pulled her hand away and left out of their bed. But the red haze of lust was overpowering and unrelenting.

She tugged the furs lower, uncovering his large manhood to the dim light. It lay across his thigh, half-hard and weeping from the tip. Her wanton fingers tightened around the furs in a weak attempt to stop herself. There was no way to know he would react if he woke up to her hand on his cock. But she couldn't stop herself. Just one stroke. She had to know how he _felt_.

She bit her lip and gently slid her fingers through the coarse line of hair leading down his belly. It was darker than the hair on his head- and rougher, but she wasn't interested in that. She propped herself up on her elbow to watch as her fingers met the thicker thatch at the base of his cock. Her tongue darted out to dampen her suddenly dry lips as she stroked the silky skin of his shaft. It felt different than she'd expected, softer, but also harder somehow. Like tempered steel beneath that hot, hot flesh. Her hair slid over her shoulder, ends brushing over his chest as she ran her fingers over him again, heart pounding when he swelled under her touch.

She pushed herself further up and loosely wrapped her fingers around him, biting back a gasp when his cock jerked against her hand. The heat between her thighs intensified as she contemplated what to do next. Before she had a chance to decide, Éomer's palm stroked up her spine. She sharply inhaled and froze, hoping, praying that she'd only imagined it.

Her blood ran cold when his hand swept back down and roughly grasped a handful of her flesh. An intense wave of regret overtook her as she catalogued the situation. Her hand on his cock. Her womanhood pressed to his thigh which was surely damp from her juices. She tried to gather the courage to look up at him- not sure what she would even say. There was no explanation for her wanton assault on his defenseless body. Nothing could be said to change the situation.

She fisted her free hand in the sheets and sharply inhaled, searching for anything to break the long silence.

But he did it first. Without uttering a single word, he tightened the arm around her back and used the other hand to grip her jaw, turning her face up to his. She caught a glimpse of heated eyes before he took her mouth. There was no gentleness in this kiss. He didn't ease her into it as he had the previous night.

He devoured her, thrusting his tongue in, mimicking the frenzied movements that had left her sore between her legs. With a low groan that set her on fire, he hauled her closer. She thought she'd been wet before, but his kiss absolutely set her aflame. He fisting his hand in her long, dark tresses and tilted her face to kiss her deeper.

Her hand snuck up his ridged abdomen but he caught it and guided it back to his cock.

His voice was rough he spoke for the first time that morning, "It seems I have interrupted you, wife."

Lothíriel's mind spun from the kiss as she tried to make sense of his statement, "-interrupted me?" She blinked away the dazed expression in her eyes.

She took in his amused expression and her heart dropped. What ever had possessed her to carry out her desires so clumsily! He must have thought her a naive virgin, ignorant of the relations between man and woman.

"I am sorry, my Lord," She reverted to the formalities taught to her as a child and lowered her gaze. "I regret my actions. I should not have behaved in such a way."

Éomer's eyes narrowed at her averted gaze. "Behaved in what way?" He asked as her head bowed in defeat.

"My conduct was not befitting for the wife of a king." Her voice had died to a whisper. Barely loud enough to hear, but he still heard.

He jerked her chin up. "Look at me." The quiet command sent shivers racing up her spine.

She raised her eyes to his.

"How do you believe a queen ought behave?"

"I shouldn't have-" She paused, searching for the right words. "I shouldn't have touched you, my King."

"Why?" Éomer squeezed her waist, then his hand progressed further down. "Do you not enjoy it when I touch you?" His fingers played over her bottom, then between her legs. She jolted against him as his fingertips grazed her soft, wet core.

"Tell me, my Queen. do you not enjoy when I touch you?" He strummed her folds, pleased when she spread her legs and dropped her forehead to his chest.

"I do!" she arched her back and ground herself against his thigh. "I do enjoy it."

Éomer pressed his lips to her forehead and pulled his fingers away, chuckling softly at her dismayed moan. She bucked her hips against his muscular leg and held steady to prolong the tingling sensation.

"Then you should know, wife- I also enjoy it when you touch me." Her head jerked up in confusion. "I very much enjoyed waking up to your hand on my cock." He smirked at her blush. ""And I would enjoy it even more if you continue." He glanced down at her hand wrapped around his manhood.

She followed his gaze, reddening at way she was gripping the silky rod of flesh. He was so wide that her fingers couldn't encircle the girth.

Lothiriel's mind blanked. She now had his permission to continue her exploration, but her knowledge ended here and her imagination could take her no further.

She did not know what to do- what did he like? It wouldn't do to continue with unsophisticated motions. Especially when Éomer seemed to know exactly what her body wanted, what she needed. She felt woefully underprepared to please him. "I do not know. What should I- What do you like?" Her voice was soft.

"I will like anything that involves your hand and my body." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"How should I…" She trailed off uncertainly as her grip on him loosened.

"Shall I teach you?" He pressed kisses across her collarbone. "Shall I show you how to please me?"

Head tipped back slightly, chin in the air, she nodded and skimmed her fingers down the length of his erection. Her unpracticed movements send him into a tailspin. He hissed in a breath, then leaned forward, bringing his lips to her neck.

"Do that again," he rasped.

She bit her lip and repeated the motion with just her fingertips.

"Tease," his hot mouth closed on her pulse.

"Teach me," her words were breathy, and curled her hand softly around the length of him and gave a little stroke. His hips jerked up, following her hand.

She did it again, a light stroke. Her eyes, bright with excitement, lifted to his. "Like that?"

"Not quite," he said tautly. "Harder."

Her body trembled. "Show me."

Swiftly, he curled his hand over hers and made her squeeze tighter, much tighter, then moved their hands in a stroke up the length of him, a long, hard pull. The pearly beads leaking from his tip smoothed the motion.

"Oh." She was all hot breath and pink cheeks. She was excited."So hard," she whispered.

"Mmm." He rumbled against her. "Hard. That's how I like it."

A little pant broke from her as she tried it herself, moved her fist up him, a fine, hard stroke, then looked up at him.

"Is that proper?" she whispered, trembling.

He smiled. "Not at all proper, love. 'It was wicked." He moved their hands again.

"Wicked," she echoed, her lips parted in a pretty, wet pant.

He released her hand to its own devices and grasped a fistful of her hair. He maneuvered her head back and exposed the long column of her neck. His voice was low as he instructed her, "Grip me tighter- Ah, yes love-" he kissed the base of her throat"Just like that."

She nodded desperately, gasping as he kissed up her jaw, sucking at the flushed skin.

She tentatively stroked him, squeezing and releasing her fist rhythmically, and was rewarded with a low rumble.

Éomer's tongue darted out, drawing her earlobe between his lips and sucking. His hot breath panted against her ear and fingers clenched her arse. She kept going. She repeated the same movement, this time smoothing her thumb over the head of his cock, through the drops leaking from his slit. He groaned again, this time louder. The sound vibrated through his chest as he ground his head back. He arched his hips and thrust into her hand.

"Keep going, love." He forced the words through a grimace.

She tightened her fist and stroked him, leaning down to kiss whatever she could reach- his cheek, his lips and jaw. Innocent pecks directly contrasted the raw jerks of her hand on his manhood.

She bent closer and licked the dull sheen of sweat from his throat. The cords of his neck tensed as his hips lifted from the bed. As she ran her teeth over his collarbone and nipped at his neck, Éomer released her hair and brought his hand down to hers.

Oh yes, he definitely likes it. She smirked against his throat and let him guide her hand as she laved wet kisses across his chest. A devilish thought occurred to her as he moaned again, this time stifling the sound by turning his head to the side, burying his face in her abandoned pillow. Their joined hands slicked up and down, again and again.

It wasn't enough for her, she needed to see him lose control- she wanted to feel his strength. She kissed across his chest, then, without warning, caught his nipple between her lips.

She'd planned on sucking, and kissing, and driving him mad, but he jerked up in surprise and flipped them over before she could. He had her pined her flat on her back in an instant Then he stretched over her body, pressing every inch of solid nakedness to her and held her wrists captive on either side of her head.

"You're a wicked little thing, aren't you?" His voice was roughened with arousal as he buried his face in her neck, kissing and nipping- making her squirm beneath him. He took her earlobe between his lips and sucked until she was writhing with pleasure.

"Why did you stop me?" She gasped, desperately tugging to free her wrists.

He bent down to take a nipple between his lips, chasing further queries out of her mind.

He freed her hands and plumped her breasts up, alternating between them sucking and swirling his tongue until they were stiff peaks. Lothíriel's fingers dug into his hair and held him to her.

Without warning, Éomer released her and rolled her to her side, pressing his chest to her back.

This was…new. She experimentally wriggled as his hard, thick arousal pressed against her bottom and a groan sounded in her ear. "You'll be the death of me," he muttered against her shoulder, letting his beard scrape against her sensitive neck.

He reached over her shoulder, curled his arm around her ribs and pressed his palm between her collarbones. "Lean over."

She did, tipping forward, so her bottom pressed closer against his cock. He skimmed his other hand down the front of her body and slid one thick finger deep between her thighs, high at the apex of her. It was excruciating, perfect pressure into slippery-hot flesh already seared by desire. She gave a broken cry and her head jerked back, grinding against his shoulder.

She tried to spread her legs, to give him more room, but he wouldn't let her. He slung a heavy leg over her thighs and pinned her in place, legs together, while he tortured her, tormented her, giving her just what she wanted but never enough. His finger pushed in, then slid out, long, hard strokes. Then he slid a second finger in, stroked them back and forth together, caught the hard nub at the apex of her between his knuckles and pulled it with him as he went, slippery and hard.

" _Éomer_." She flung her head, the breath stopped in her lungs. It burst out in a loud, broken gasp around his name.

"You are a queen." he murmured against the side of her head, timing his words with a thrilling stroke over her clit.

He did it again, and again, alternating between deep strokes, swift, rhythmic flutters, and hard, glancing touches, so fast they were almost snaps, spinning her into a state of mindless arousal.

" _My_ queen," he stressed. "If you want something from me, you demand it. Or even better, you take it." He shifted, and the muscles of his thighs flexed against the back of hers as he moved his arm to curl around her belly. Then he pushed the curving length of his erection forward, nudging it between the soft flesh of her upper thighs, slick with her desire.

"Do you understand?"

" _Yes_ ," she gasped, shaking her head. "No. Please."

Her breath was comprised of stuttered gasps. He gave a little pump and she looked down to watch the thick, engorged head slide between her thighs. She loosed another ragged sob, helpless, holding onto the powerful forearm wrapped around her belly for support, and squeezed her thighs around him, rocking back and forth.

He made some low male sound, like a curse, like approval. "If you want my cock, it's yours."

He began pumping, harder, and guided her hand down to cup his shaft as it came out in front.

"And if you want to throw me down and ride me," Her cheeks flushed at the wickedness of his words, "then I'll lie back and watch." He pressed her hand just right, holding it tight up against her, so every stroke ran the length of her, parting the hot, slippery folds, nudging the aroused nub of her pleasure.

"Move on me," he ordered, but she already was.

Her body was in constant motion, pushing for more. Her hips rocked, one hand wrapped around his wrist between her legs, the other reaching behind her to cup his head, her body arched, her spine curved, her throat exposed, her bottom bumping his groin every time she rocked back to meet his thrust, her breasts thrust up, her nipples so hard they hurt. She felt strung up like a sacrifice. She could hardly breathe through the pleasure of it.

He lifted his leg from where it held her down. His breath, hot and heavy, came beside her ear. " _Now_ , spread your legs," he demanded.

Wanton by desire, she did. She hooked her calf over his knee and let him open her wide.

He laid a hand at the inside of her thigh and spread her further.

Her hair was a tangle, sweaty and damp against her back. He brushed it to the side and was still for a second, then, low and rough, he said, "take me."

That was all he said, but it made her tremble from the force of the rough, barely-restrained want.

His hands closed around her hips as she reached down and pressed him against her opening. She was breathing so fast her head spun. He nudged the thick head of his shaft to her entry and without pause, filled her entirely.

Her head jerked back as if tugged on a string.

"Ahh."It was a low, harsh exhale. " _Good girl._ "

He rocked again, encroaching deeper, slowly more, deeper into her. Heavy pleasure filled her from the inside out.

He didn't stop. His arms wrapped around her, trapping her, taking her fully. One hand crossed over and closed on her breast, The other pressed between her hips, a whisper away from where his cock thrust in and out. He bucked his hips. Hard, silken and hot, it was a masterful thrust, spreading her wide. She sobbed as her body bucked and her inner muscles spasmed around him. His breath was harsh now, full male, mingling with her whispered gasps.

"Love, you feel good," he rasped in a dark whisper, right by her ear.

"Éomer," it was a broken gasp, nothing more.

"I'm not going to be kind."

" _Please_."

He put a hand on her clit and he entered her again, sank in with hard intent, a deep, penetration that yanked her head back with a sobbed, incoherent scream of pleasure.

Just as he'd said.

He took her mercilessly, with deep, rounded thrusts, the farce of his restraint gone. It was greedy, vicious, perfect. She rocked back to take every one, pushing against him, her knees spread wide. His open mouth pressed to her shoulder and his teeth scraped against the sweat dampened skin. Every thrust sent her breasts heaving, bouncing. His thumb and index finger tightened over one nipple and forced a cry from her lips.

"Is this what you needed?" he murmured, wicked and dark.

She made some inarticulate sound.

"Do you still want more?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, please." She had no notion what she was saying; words were pouring from her, sounds and gasps and helpless cries.

"Touch yourself."

"Oh, _Éomer_ ," she whispered helplessly, "I can't."

"Let me teach you," He murmured against her ear, "I want to show you your pleasure." He dragged her heavy, waxen arm down and pressed her fingers into her own folds.

Her entire body bucked, jerking against him. He showed her how to glide her slicked fingertips to grant herself overwhelming pleasure.

" _Keep going._ " The words were hard male pleasure. Her hand kept working to a frenzy as he gripped her hip with bruising force.

Waves began moving through her, thudding deep pulses. She began furiously writhing. Rocking hips and gasps of pleasure, crying out his name as the spiral of fiery pleasure built, until it crashed inside her in a wave, so that she felt as if her body came apart in hard, shuddering explosions of white-hot pleasure.

While she was still reverberating, he pulled out. She whimpered in dazed protest, but he flipped her onto her back as if she was a sheaf of parchment and pushed her legs apart. He pressed her knees to the furs and gazed down where her soaked fingers gently circled her clit. Her body was damp with passion-sweat, her hair tangled and spread across the bed as he slid back inside her with a single plunge.

"Keep saying my name, love," he said, his voice ragged and hoarse.

 _Love_.

Tremors of pleasure still moved through her as she curled her hands around the hard definition of his upper arms and hung on. He held himself with his palms hooked behind her knees, his head bent, hair falling forward, his gaze fierce, intent, their gazes locked. She did indeed keep moaning his name in broken syllables punctuated by his possessive thrusts. Then his body stiffened and his face contorted, a beautiful, hard, pained male shudder, and he spilled inside her with swift, savage thrusts. He released her legs and collapsed atop her, only present enough to catch some weight on his forearms.

She wrapped her knees around his hips and clung to him until he stopped thrusting, until the shudders of pleasure slowed. He finally brought his head down too, until his forehead rested on hers. They breathed together, their sweat and breath mingling. Lothíriel lifted her hands—they were heavy, languid—and trailed her fingers along his jaw, tipped her face up to covered his in hot, little kisses, no aim, no precision. His body radiated heat into hers.

Finally, he tipped his head up an inch. He shifted onto one elbow and wiped the sweeps of tangled, sweaty hair away from her face to peer in at her.

"As long as I live, I shall never forget the sight of waking up to you stroking my cock." He loosely thrust one last time and held deep as he softened inside her.

For a long while after, they stayed just like that, dazed with comfort, bodies weak with exhaustion as she dragged her fingertips over his muscled back.

* * *

 **Hello All!**

 **1.** Edited this chapter as of 8/2/2019. I'll be going back to edit the rest as well as add new ones.

 **Please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-M-**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Lord of the Rings!**

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye, Éomer saw her enter his study enveloped in his bulky dressing gown. At least 6 inches of the heavy material dragged on the floor behind her. Lothíriel had taken to wearing his robe in their chambers, frequently complaining that all of hers were decorative rather than functional and useless to ward off the chill. Not that Éomer had any complaints- he enjoyed seeing her dressed in his clothes. He especially enjoyed seeing her in his robe after they'd fucked, her hair falling around her shoulders in a tangled mess and her lips swollen and pink- sometimes with tiny bruises decorating her neck and chest, sometimes without.

Éomer's thoughts strayed as he watched her pull the door to his antechamber shut and lean against the heavy wood with a slight smile on her lips. He abandoned the maps he had been studying when he heard the quiet snick as she locked the door behind her.

Lothíriel pushed away from the wood and slowly walked toward the fireplace in an effort to get warm again.

"Have I disturbed you, my love?" Lothíriel asked, her delicate inquiry was almost lost among the crackling of the hearty fire as she held her hands to the warmth.

Éomer set his quill down and sat back in his chair, running his hands through his hair.

"You could never," he replied with a sigh, grateful for her interruption.

She turned to look at him and wrapped her arms around her midsection with only the tips of her fingers peeking out of the twice-rolled sleeves. Éomer was sprawled out in his chair, forearms resting on the solid armrests and legs splayed out under the massive desk. He seemed to fill up the entire room, all broad chest and bulky muscle. He was larger than most of the men she had known growing up, her father, her brothers, the many squires, soldiers and farmers in Dol Amroth- they were strong and muscular, yet also lean and graceful. The men in Rohan, on the other hand, were giants. They had to be in order to ride the enormous horses native to the land. Despite his size, Éomer was one of the most gentle men she had ever known. Gentle, until she asked him not to be, which she did more often than what could be considered lady-like. Lothíriel planned on asking him to be not-gentle this evening as well. She felt her stomach flip in anticipation for what was to come.

Éomer reached out his hand, silently asking for her to come closer. As she approached with a smile, his heart warmed at the pretty picture she made- the glowing fire brought out shades of red and mahogany in her dark hair and lit her face with a bright golden cast.

She slid her palm over his outstretched hand and sat on the sturdy armrest, facing him. His arm lay over her thighs and his hand curled around her hip, holding her steady. She leaned forward to gently stroke his temples with her fingers. The slow, rhythmic massage lessened the headache that has been building and his furrowed brow quickly smoothed out under her fingertips.

"You always know exactly what to do," Éomer groaned as his head fell back against the chair with a dull thud. He let out a breath and pulled one of her hands to his lips, kipping first her palm, then each fingertip.

A smile played across her lips as she took in the sight of her powerful, handsome husband. His eyes slid shut as her fingers ran down his cheekbones, across his lips and through his beard. His lips curved up in pleasure when she kissed him lightly, once, twice, and more deeply a third time. Her fingers snuck into the neck of his shirt, where the fabric gaped open, revealing golden skin and dark blonde curls of hair. Just as his grip on her began to tighten in preparation to pull her into his lap, she pushed his arm off her thighs and stood, amused when he jolted at her sudden movement. He sat up straight, worried that she was upset or bothered by something.

He watched her every movement as she manuvered around his legs until she stood before him in the small space between the edge of his chair and the massive desk. Éomer adjusted his legs until she was bracketed between them. She was boxed her in on all four sides. by wood and muscle.

Everything about her unexpected appearance in his study and her strange behavior now indicated that something was not right, so Éomer sat back, eyes narrowed and fingers stroking his beard, in anticipation for bad news.

Her next movement was anything but bad news.

With a smirk and arched eyebrow, Lothíriel slowly untied the belt of his robe, taking her time to allow his bright blue eyes to track her motion, and shrugged it off her shoulders- letting it fall to her elbows.

Beneath the robe, she wore absolutely nothing.

The firelight flickered across the expanse of naked skin, hiding in the valleys of her body and turning her into a statue of the purest gold. His breeches tightened at the sight of her, so confident and lovely. His Queen.

Éomer's clear blue eyes darkened in lust as he reached for her with one hand. To his dismay, she knocked it away and shook her head at him with an impish smirk.

He reached for her again, this time with both hands, intent on feeling her silky skin under his fingers- but she pushed both his hands away again.

They both knew she wouldn't be able to stop him if he really wanted to get his hands on her, but he chose to sit back and let her show him what she wanted. It wasn't often that Lothíriel initiated romance between them, but Éomer especially enjoyed it when she did. He sat back unabashedly stared at her.

"Let it go," Éomer commanded, nodding at the heavy fabric bunched at her elbows. Lothíriel raised her eyebrow in defiance and ignored him. The air between them grew hot as they both waited to see who would give in. Slowly, she let the velvet and fur garment slide down her legs to the floor. Her smile grew as Éomer's eyes followed the movement of the robe down her body.

Lothíriel leaned forward, placing both hands on his shoulders and slowly lifted her leg until her knee was on the chair, between the armrest and Éomer's hard, muscled thigh. She pulled her other leg up until she was straddling his lap, facing him. When she was finally where she wanted to be, she slid her hands into his blonde hair and pulled his face to hers.

"I want you to fuck me, my love," she whispered, before she met his lips in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. She rocked against the hard appendage between her thighs and moaned into his mouth, taking control of her own pleasure.

Éomer pulled her closer, one arm banded around her waist and the other hand roughly grasping her arse. He adjusted her in his lap until her bare center was pressed against his arousal. Her heat seeped through his clothing and made him even harder. Her hands tugged at his tunic as her hips ground tiny circled against the ridge. Every time the abrasive material of his breeches rubbed against her, she gasped into his mouth.

His mind was reeling from her sudden, wanton declaration. She had always chastised him when he used such dirty words, so he used them even more to tease her. But to hear such a word from her lips made him harder then he had thought possible.

He pulled away from her lips and laved large wet kisses on her chest, sucking the delicate, flushed skin into his mouth and bruising it with his teeth. He yanked her even closer until her nipples were right there. He sucked one between his lips, alternating between lightly scoring it with his teeth and flicking with his tongue. He momentarily released her breast from his mouth to dampen two fingers between his lips, then set to work swirling those fingers around her unattended breast.

Lothíriel lost herself in the masterful manipilation of his hands and lips. She arched her back, and held his head in place as she bucked against his still covered cock. Her juices began soaking through his breeches as she moaned his name into the silence of the room.

Éomer, feeling the discomfort in his groin, released her breasts and lifted her to move her back on his thighs, letting out a soft huff of laughter at her displeased whimper.

He reached between them to untie the laces, freezing as he saw her hand slide down to the place between her thighs. He abandoned the laces when her fingers disappeared inside her and reappeared moments later, glistening with her arousal, to stroke her clit. His eyes shot up, taking in the erotic sight of her hips moving against her fingers and her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

"Éomer, please," She gasped, fingers digging into his chest as she rode her other hand furiously. "I need you now."

He could see the harsh red flush creeping across her chest and knew she was close. He ripped the flaps of his breeches apart, groaning in relief as his arousal sprung out of its suffocating confines. Her eyes immediately went to the angry purple head of his cock and she slid her hand down his chest toward it. Her fingers wrapped around him, grasping and stroking it the way he liked.

"Let me taste you," he said, looking at her fingers, coated in her juices. She reluctantly pulled her hand away from her center and painted his lips with her arousal, growing even wetter when his tongue shot out to lick his lips. She pushed her fingers between his lips, shuddering as he sucked them clean and let them go.

He turned his attention back to her hand wrapped around his cock. He shoved his breeches down as far as possible, and with Lothíriel's help, pushed the offending article of clothing to his knees. He wrapped his hand around hers and together they stroked him until the head of his cock was weeping.

He reached for her again, hooking one arm around her waist and holding his cock steady in the other fist. Lothíriel slowly lowered herself onto the turgid length and gasped when she took him to the hilt. Their position made it impossible for Éomer to move so Lothíriel braced her palms against his shoulders, lifted herself up and dropped back onto him, digging her nails into his skin as she did so.

He stroked her thighs with both hands and languidly sat back to watch her ride his cock. Her hips rolled back and forth as she fucked herself on his arousal. Droplets of her juices rolled down the insides of her thighs and he caught them with his thumb, bringing them to his mouth as she took herself closer and closer to her peak.

He grasped her by the waist, lifted her and pulled her back down, sending his cock even deeper into her. Every time she impaled herself on him, he was rewarded with a high-pitched gasp. She rode him faster and harder with his help; grinding tiny circles against him, trying to find more stimulation.

Éomer sat back and watched as her breasts bounced, he found it impossible to look away. As she pleasured them both, Éomer slid one hand between them, looking for the place that made her scream. When he found her it, he tightened his arm around her waist, holding her impaled on his cock, and stroked her clit back and forth with his thumb.

The added stimulation sent her hurtling into sudden and overwhelming orgasm. She threw her head back and let out a short, choked scream as her nails dug into his shoulders and her body convulsed on his lap, causing her muscles around his cock to flutter wildly.

He watched the expression on her face, awed by her beauty. Her teeth bit into her lower lip and her neck was tense with pleasure. As she finished on his lap, she dropped bonelessly against his chest, gasping for air as she swiped her tongue against his skin, tasting the salt. His hands stroked up and down her back as he waited for her to catch her breath. He was still hard inside her and her earlier words about wanting to be fucked hard were echoing in his head.

As she recovered, she had sudden flash of wickedness and leaned her head down to catch his nipple between her lips. His fingers dug into her waist at the unexpected sensation.

"What are you doing to me, love?" He groaned.

She ignored him and continued to lavish her attention on him, scraping her teeth against his chest, leaving behind faint bite marks which were sure to turn to angry bruises. As she worked her way up his neck, she latched onto the skin where his pulse pounded and sucked, marking him as hers. His fingers fisted in her long hair as she pulled her lips away from his neck, pleased when she saw the red flush promising a dark bruise the next morning.

She had a devious smirk on her face when her eyes met his.

"I still want you to fuck me, Éomer King." she said, leaning back in his lap and scratching down his chest with her sharp nails.

He pulled her close by the back of her neck and thrust his tongue into her mouth before whispering, "I am yours to command, my Lady."

He jolted to his feet, catching her around the waist when she squealed in surprise, and sat her down on the desk. Her arms twined around his neck and her legs tightened around his waist as he thrust into her once, testing if she was still ready for him. As her responding gasp, he pulled back and thrust in harder.

"Unwrap your legs," He groaned against the damp skin of her neck as he stroked her knee. When she did, he gently pushed her back until she was laying flat against the surface of the desk, propped one calf over his shoulder and reached forward to grab hold of her shoulder. His other palm dug into her hip as he thrust into her again, watching her reaction to this new angle. With every snap of his hips, he pulled her closer by her shoulder, getting even deeper than he had before.

Lothíriel wrapped her fingers around his wrist pulled his hand to rest at the base of her throat, shooting him a lustful look in the process. Éomer narrowed his eyes and flexed his fingers around her neck, "So, my lovely Queen wants to be fucked like a whore." He growled out as he leaned over her. She let out a desperate moan at his filthy words.

He slowed down his thrusts and bit down on her breast, causing her to cry out and twine a fistful of his hair around her fingers. He straightened away from her, pulled his hips back and plunged forward, taking pleasure in her scream. He slid his warm palm up her leg and turned his head to bite her calf, enjoying the feeling of her muscles trembling with tension. He thrust back into her and roughly grasped her breasts in both hands, flicking her nipples with his thumbs. She tried arching her back but was pushed flat against the desk by his hands on her chest.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look at this moment," His voice dropped to a growl and he slid both hands to her waist to hold her in place. He resumed his punishing pace, driving into her relentlessly, encouraged by her juices collecting at the base of his cock.

"Oh! Éomer, plea-" Lothíriel's broken pleas only encouraged him to go faster.

"You're still tight for me," Éomer growled, as her leg slipped off his shoulder. "Do I not fuck you enough, Princess?"

He reached down to hook his palms under her knees and pushed them to her shoulders. She was nearly folded her in half as he leaned forward with a feral expression. His beard scraped against the raw, delicate skin of her nipples as he bit and sucked any available piece of her skin. Her breathless gasps and high pitched whines made him rougher with her.

"Are you going to cum for me?" He asked against her flushed skin as he threw his weight behind every thrust.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she chanted as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and held on tight. "Don't stop- Éomer, pleas- Don't!"

Her legs shook with the force of her second orgasm. She arched off the desk into his body, and dug her nails into his shoulders. She shuddered as the waves of pleasure crashed over her, and dragged her nails down his back, leaving long, angry scratches behind.

Éomer gave one last mighty thrust and threw his head back with a roar, pumping his hot seed into her. As he finished, he collapsed on top of her, burying his face between her breasts, only remembering at the last second to hold some of his weight on his arms so as to not crush her.

His hot breath rushed against her skin and he gasped for air. Lothíriel regained her ability to move first and combed her fingers through his sweaty hair and stroked the backs of his thighs with her heels. She didn't know how long they lay collapsed across his desk, but eventually noticed a slight chill as the sweat dried on her skin.

"You never fail to surprise me," Éomer said rousing himself slowly to kiss her forehead. He stood up on shaky legs, pulling her with him until she was perched on the edge of his desk. The both laughed when Lothíriel noticed several pieces of parchment stuck to the damp skin of her back. He brushed them away and leaned down to pick up his long forgotten robe, draping it over her shoulders. "I love you more than anything, Lothíriel."

She beamed up at him stroked his beard with her fingertips. "I love you too," She said as she kissed him. She pulled back to properly fit her arms into the sleeves of the robe and let Éomer loosely tie it at her waist.

When she was covered, Éomer yanked the breeches up from his knees and carelessly tied them, ignoring the tear from earlier.

He wrapped his arms around Lothíriel and kissed her lightly on the nose as she slid off the desk.

"I won't be able to work in this chamber any longer," he laughed as she turned from his arms, taking his hand and pulling him along.

She shot him an amused look over her shoulder and winked, "Shall we retire for the evening, my King?"

"I suppose that's best," Éomer sighed in mock frustration and opened the door to their chamber, "After you, love."

* * *

 **Hello All!**

 **1.** As always, ask me questions, send me suggestions or just say hi! I'd love to hear from you :)

 **2.** Here's chapter 4! Halfway through the next two already!

 **3.** I have a few Avengers stories out, you should all take a look if you're into that!

 **Please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-Mo-**


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own Lord of the Rings!**

 **This is not a new chapter! The new one is chapter 4- I had to rearrange things a bit for the timeline :)**

* * *

Éomer pushed open the door leading to the Queen's chambers and froze in his tracks at the sight before him. _His wife and their child._

Lothíriel, refusing to follow the Gondorian tradition of hiring a wet nurse to feed their child, had taken to nursing the babe from her own breast. And what a glorious sight that was. Her breasts had never been particularly small, but now they were large, heavy and topped with dark, red nipples. He felt blood rushing to his cock at his Queen. The image of her- breasts freed from her gown, their child hungrily feeding from her, sent a sudden and powerful rush of arousal through his body. She had still not seen him, and although he has promised her in the morning that they would spend the afternoon together, he knew he there was no chance he would be able to sit by her now. So, quietly, he backed out and gently pulled the door shut behind him.

Éomer inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself as he headed to the large dresser in search of a washcloth to spend himself into… _again_. This had become a quite common problem for him. He'd been unable to enjoy the _company_ of his lovely, willing wife for nearly two months now. So he had become very well acquainted with his hand and a warm washcloth. He had been doing his best to hide his increasingly frequent and raging arousals from Lothíriel. She'd had a hard time with the birth and had been recovering over the past month. And he did not want her to feel pressured to do anything to please him, so he'd been spending more and more time in the stables with the mares and new foals. He finally found a washcloth and roughly tore his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor by his feet. He clenched the washcloth between his teeth and he began to work at his laces- where his arousal was bursting for release. He tried to be quick without ripping at the fabric- but the more he pulled, the tighter his breeches seemed to become. The laces tangled between his fingers and he gave up for a moment, groaning and letting the washcloth fall from his mouth. He leaned forward and braced his forearms and forehead against the dresser, silently willing himself to calm down. It wouldn't do for him to spend into his breeches like a green lad who'd never seen, let alone touched, a woman before. He inhaled once, twice and ground his head against the wooden door.

He stiffened momentarily when he felt a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. _When had she come in?_ Then he sighed in defeat.

"Oh, my poor darling," Lothíriel smoothed her palms down his back, caressing the iron-hard muscle then wrapped her arms around his waist. "I've been ignoring you these past few weeks."

She laid another kiss on his back and rested her head there as she ran her soft palms down the front of his chest. Éomer could feet her entire body, specifically her breasts, pressing against him and groaned. Any progress he had made in calming his raging erection was quickly reversed by the sensation of her warm, pliant body. He laughed humorlessly and spoke, "I love you, Lothíriel. So much. However, this is not helping."

He felt her smile against his back as she squeezed her arms tighter around his waist before releasing him and pulling away. He was torn- half of him wanted to beg her to come back and hold him, as this was the closest they had been since the babe was born. But the other half of him was glad that she would not see him completely lose control.

As he was about to push away from the dresser and call for a cold basin of water, Lothíriel ducked under his arm and pressed her back to the dresser, fitting herself between him and the wooden doors. She had a coy expression on her face, one that could only mean trouble for him. God she looked lovely, and so, so ready for him. His cock twitched at the thought of hoisting her up against the wall and pounding into her. Éomer closed his eyes and shook his head, no- that was exactly what he could _not_ do.

She reached up to stroke his face- running her fingers across his lips, gasping when his tongue started out to taste her and tuck his hair behind his ears, "Let me help, darling." She looked up at him with large, grey eyes that could compel him to do anything, "let me make it better for you."

He wanted to accept her offer, more than anything, but he couldn't. He sighed, shaking his head. "I do not want to hurt you. The midwife said we must wait two months to be certain."

Lothíriel could hear the barely repressed frustration in his voice. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, burrowing into his chest when he finally relented and hugged her back. His arms around her always made her feel safe and loved. She could feel the tension in his body, it had been there for weeks now- and she hadn't noticed. Guilt overtook her. He'd been so kind, and patient, and loving- just as he'd been since the moment the met. But she had neglected him. It pained her to know that he was suffering now and there was nothing she could do to help.

 _There is something you could do_ … a devious voice in her mind spoke up, giving her a rather risky idea, and she smirked against his chest.

She pulled away and placed a palm on his cheek, turning his head to face her, looking him in the eyes, "I love you so much. You know that, don't you?"

He leaned down and gently kissed her, weary smile on his lips, "I know, my love." His arms stroked up and down her back- calming her the way he did best.

She arched away from the dresser and leaned into him, pressing her soft belly to the hard ridge between his legs. She slid her palms down his neck and arms, stroking his golden skin with the backs of her fingers.

"Lorhiriel," he said in warning, as her fingers glided up and down his chest, twisting in the wiry, dark hair there.

"Yes, my love?" She replied with a playful glimmer in her eye. She leaned forward to kiss his bare chest, letting her tongue dart out to taste his skin.

"Lothíriel," he dropped his head back and let out an exasperated laugh. "I am going to the stables."

"I want you here," She snaked her arms around his neck, holding him close and pressing herself against him. Her warm, pliant body sent his mind reeling. She slid her hands into his hair, kissing and sucking at his skin. As she twisted her fingers into his dark blonde strands, she roughly scraped her teeth up the length of his neck. He bucked his arousal into her soft belly with a deep groan, unable to control himself for a moment. As the haze of lust clouded his mind, one sane thought shot through his body, _it's too soon for this!_

"Lothíriel," He pulled back from her and reached up to unwind her arms from his neck. "What are you doing?" He snapped, shocked at her behavior as held her forearms between them and took a step back. "I don't want to lose control and hurt you!" He leaned down to grab his tunic from the floor. Turning away from her, he stalked to the door leading to his study.

"Éomer," Lothíriel's quiet voice made him pause just as he reached the door. "Éomer, turn around."

Éomer tried to make himself ignore her, but found he was unable to. As he turned, she reached up to untie the laces of her gown. She hadn't moved an inch but somehow seemed close enough to touch.

"Lothi-"

"Come here," she spoke over him and trained her gaze on him as he slowly crossed the room, dropping his shirt on the way.

By the time he had reached her, she had half the laces undone- one tug and the bodice of her gown would sag, revealing her perfect, overflowing breasts. His eyes were glued to the newly exposed skin. Hills and valleys of creamy, light golden skin. Her bodice just _barely_ hung from the stiff peaks of her nipples. His fingers dug into her waist in an effort to hang on to the fraying threads of his control. She released the laces and ran her nails up his arms, knowing it wouldn't be long before Éomer would reach up to give her gown that one _last_ tug.

"Why are you torturing me so, wife?" He groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder, laving the flawless skin with warm, open-mouthed kisses.

His lips traced the bare skin of her neck, trailing kisses up to her jaw. She dug her fingers into his biceps, waiting for his hands or his lips to kiss her where he wanted to most. He kissed the swells of her delicate breasts with a bruising force, lashing the skin with his tongue as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her gasps filled his ears. Then, with one rough, animalistic grunt, he jerked her bodice down, pulling it to her waist, and buried his face in her sweetly perfumed skin. Both hands came up to cup her breasts and knead them as he took his time with them. He brought them to his lips, swirling his tongue around the cherry-red tips. He attacked each one, first teasing with his thumbs, then his lips, then finally nipping her flesh with his teeth. She absolutely collapsed against the dresser, held up only by his knee between her thighs and her arms looped around his shoulders. A few more moments of his hands and mouth and she would reach her peak.

Lothíriel gently groung her hips against thigh, riding him, desperately seeking enough friction to take her to the edge while his he pleasured her breasts. She took just a few moments of selfish pleasure then reined in her desire in order to take care of her husband.

She reached up to push at his shoulders, maneuvering them around until his back was against the dresser. Then she took a step back, putting her perfect breasts _just_ out of reach of his hands and lips. She could tell, by the way his mouth gaped slightly open and his hands twitched, that he was about to drag her back to him.

What a scene he made, leaning back, shirtless, heel of one palm pressed to his arousal while his lust-clouded eyes watched her. She would feel the wetness between her thighs but resolved to take care of herself later. Shooting him a wicked look, she sank to her knees in front of him, ignoring his protests. Delicate fingers pushed his hand out of the way then gently unlaced his breeches, loosening the flap until she was able to slide one hand into the garment. Éomer dropped his head against the wood and fisted both hands at his sides, determined not to lose control and risk hurting her.

She stroked him with her fingertips, biting her lips as she watched him screw his eyes shut at the light touch. Then she tugged his breeches down until they were past his knees and gasped at the sight of his cock as it bounced gently. It was angry and red and weeping at the tip. Another pang of guilt hit her. She should have been more attentive, he'd clearly been needing this for a long time. She heard Éomer's head thud against the dresser as she gently stroked the underside of his cock with the back of her fingers. His thighs trembled with anticipation as she leaned forward and traced her tongue up the same path her fingers had just taken. A purple vein throbbed as she closer her lips around the head and flicked her tongue over the slit, moaning when she tasted his arousal.

She dragged her hands slowly back down to his legs, leaving her tongue in light contact with the tip of his cock as she did. "You're so thick." She said as she wrapped her hand around him, using a light touch and gentle caresses to feel his girth. "I love the way you stretch me when we fuck."

She knew what her dirty words would do to him, smiling to herself as a deep, guttural groan tore through his body. She's learned, over the past few years, that nothing made him harder than hearing her say those absolutely _filthy_ words in her prim, sweet voice.

She pressed gently kissed to his shaft and pulled back. Her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, and then swirled in widening circles as sucked at the head. Dragging her tongue down the underside of his shaft, she turned her head sideways to lick and kiss just where his shaft met his sac, sloppily kissing the base of his cock, knowing he loved that. She laved her tongue across his sac and caught it between her lips. As she tongued the soft skin, she fisted his cock and jerked, looking up at him through half-closed eyes- he was watching with heavy eyes, flushed and breathing hard.

"Tell me what you want, darling," she said af the pulled away with a soft _pop_ and she kissed up his length, briefly pausing at the head, tracing her lips with it- tingling with pleasure at his _filthy_ groan, then taking it deep into her mouth, sending Éomer's head slamming back against the wood.

"Ah, fuck," His hips gently thrust toward her face, "Suck. Like that." His words were rough and broken, to her absolute delight. She loved seeing him this way, inches from losing control- brought there by her lips and hands.

As she took him deeper, accepting his thrusts, he gently stroked his thumb against her cheek- a stark contrast to the way his cock was plowing between her pink lips. She looked up at him with large grey eyes. He laughed breathlessly at the thought of it- his beautiful wife, pretending to be innocent with his cock in her mouth. He gently burrowed his hands into her hair, threading the silky strands between his fingers and tilted her head _just right_ , until he could get deeper into her mouth. With one rough thrust, he cleared the back of her mouth and went deep into her throat. The feeling of her muscles squeezing his cock was exquisite, his vision went black and his grip on her hair slackened- giving Lothíriel space to pull back and gasp for air. Just as he regained his senses, apology at the tip of his tongue, she took him back in her mouth, not stopping until her lips were pressed to the thatch of wiry hair at his base. Her eyes watered as she focused on breathing through her nose- but Éomer was too far gone to notice anything.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He was chanting under his breath, gasping for air as she released him and flicked her tongue against his head expertly. Her left hand moved up his chest again, stroking through his chest hair, touching and tweaking his nipples, pressing against the muscles of his chest. She moved her mouth slowly up and down on his shaft, sucking as she worked her fist around the base. Bringing her left hand back down again, she reached under to cup his balls, rolling her fingers in time with the her lips on his cock. She added a bit more suction pressure, and allowed him to pop out of her mouth, only to swirl her tongue around his crown again.

Releasing both of her hands, she took him back into her mouth, taking him in as far as she could while she moved her hands his thighs to grip his hips. He felt her move her fingertips in small circles, massaging his hips, down to his thighs as she held him deep in her mouth for a moment. She slid her hands back down to grasp him and sucked with renewed fervor, smirking when she heard his choked intake of breath.

She moved back a bit, smile glimmering with pleasure, her eyes wickedly playful when they met his. And then, her gaze shifting to pure heat, she took him into her mouth again and began to move her hand on his shaft with a firm, sure grip, stroking him slowly at first. She increased the speed of her strokes incrementally- sucking, moving her tongue to press and slide, swallowing while using her tongue to press him against the roof of her mouth. Allowing his cock to pop out of her mouth with hard suction, and then sucking him back in again. All the while increasing the speed of her hands. Holding his sac with her left hand, touching, rolling, tugging.

He was panting, groaning, moaning. "Oh, fuck yes. Fuck yes."

Gently, slowly, he slid his hands to the back of her head, griping her hair in white-knuckled fists, and pulled her toward him as he thrust his hips. She slid her hands up to grip his hips, letting him take control for a moment. He moved his hips in slow, deep thrusts, hitting the back of her throat with each one. She looked back up and him and moaned loudly, the vibrations finally sending him into a violent finish with a road. He held her head in place and pushed his hips up towards her mouth, thrusting frantically as his climax crashed over him. She continued to stroke him gently as she swallowed, massaging him and moaning around him, letting him take what he needed.

And finally, _finally_ , he began to relax as she released his cock from her mouth and hands, running her hands up to his chest once more while she kissed up his hips. He was slumped against the dresser, breathing heavily, with sweat dribbling down his chest. Reaching down, he hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her up to him- hugging her close and crushing her bare breasts to him.

"You've stolen the words from my mouth." His voice sounded rusty and broken. She laughed softly, deeply pleased by his reaction, and he smiled down at her, looking completely intoxicated by pleasure. After a few moments of just breathing and returning to his own body, he reached down to re-lace her gown, "The longer I see you in this state, the more likely it is that I will be ready for you again."

She bit her lip, holding back a gasp as his fingers brushed against her sensitive skin. She knew she must have looked a complete mess- gown undone, hair mussed from his hands and lips swollen from his...

She pulled his lips down to hers and kissed him, whispering against his mouth, "And I would gladly welcome that." She slid her hand between their bodies and gently caressed his length before tugging his breeches to his hips. "If you decide that you're capable of another round this evening, then I will simply," she licked the shell of his ear, "and happily," she dropped to a whisper directly into his ear, "go to my knees for you."

He kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue against hers and spinning them around, heaving her up against the dresser. her legs bracketed his thigh and he rolled his hips against her, forcing a gasp from her lips.

"Are you wet for your King, love?" His hot breath at her ear and his fingers at her breast sent her mind reeling. He pulled back and captured both her wrists in one large hand, holding them above her head as his other hand dragged up a fistful of her skirts.

The midwife had said he shouldn't penetrate her for another fortnight, however she hadn't said anything about using his fingers _without_ penetrating her. He grinned wickedly and went in for another kiss as his fingers slid between her thighs.

"Ah, look at this," He murmured against her lips. "You are more than wet for me. You are absolutely _dripping_." He didn't tease her at all this time. His fingers went straight for her clit, roughly circling the sensitive nub until she was writhing against him. "I didn't know my Queen had such a filthy tongue- I don't know if you deserve this." His fingers slid through her slick folds with a renewed intensity as he _growled_ the threat into her ear.

"Please, Éomer," she pleaded as her head fell back to the wood, "I need this- please!" He slid through her folds one last time, then pinched her clit between his index and middle finger, kissing her hard to swallow her scream. He held her at her peak, not letting up any pressure as she came on his finger with a burst of wetness. She shook with pleasure, breaking her imprisoned wrists out of his grasp and pushing at his hand between her thigh- desperately needing respite from her peak.

As he released her and let her skirts fall back to the ground, she fisted his hair and brought his lips down to meet hers. "One fortnight. That's all I can stand." She mumbled nonsensically against his kiss. "Then I want your cock."

* * *

 **Hello All!**

 **1.** As always, ask me questions, send me suggestions or just say hi! I'd love to hear from you :)

 **2.** **This is not the new chapter! The new one is chapter 4- I had to rearrange things a bit for the timeline :)**

 **Please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-Mo-**


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